The concept behind this disc is a gimmick. Not that the composer wasn’t serious; you can be very serious about a gimmick. But to assign pitches to each DNA segment of the HIV virus and claim that the resulting sounds “reflect the true nature” of the bug–especially when those resulting sounds tinkle along blandly but pleasantly for an unconscionably dull 50 minutes or so–is simply ridiculous. And of course, the choice of the HIV virus is the most gimmicky part of the whole thing. If composer Alexandra Pajak had instead chosen “Chromosome 19” or something equally anonymous, would anyone care? And would the result have sounded notably different from what we have here? Somehow, I don’t think so.
Musical stunts like this aren’t new, by the way, or even particularly original. For example, Villa-Lobos’ Sixth Symphony has thematic material derived from superimposing a topographical map of Brazil on a musical stave and taking pitches from the mountain peaks. The result no more reflects “the true nature” of Brazilian geography than Pajak’s piece represents the HIV virus. The difference, of course, is that Villa-Lobos was a great composer to begin with and uses his themes merely as starting points, whereas Pajak’s literalism represents a typically modern surrender of creative responsibility to non-musical considerations.
So what’s next Ms. Pajak, cholera? Or is this the first in a series of sexually transmitted disease musico-genetic transcriptions for chamber ensemble? I shudder at the thought. Suffice it to say that the coyly named Sequence Ensemble (not to be confused with the Double-Helix Quartet) consists of piano, flute, clarinet, oboe, horn, and cello, a group whose collective timbral potential Pajak makes little effort to exploit in an expressively meaningful manner. They play well enough, but the engineering perspective is very close, and quickly turns aurally fatiguing. You’ll probably have given up before then anyway.
